


in poison places, we are anti-venom

by nieveblancas



Series: we're losers, and we always will be [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcoholism, Ben and Bev are in love., Bill and Mike have moved on but they loved eachother!, Birdie has OCD, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Eddie kaspbrak, Dad Richie Tozier, Depression, F/M, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Munchausen by proxy, Pennywise the homophobe, Richie would die for Eddie, Stan loves Patty., Stan might still die?, That's fun, Violence, but it counts - Freeform, the losers club has kids, we'll find out, well some of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nieveblancas/pseuds/nieveblancas
Summary: 𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥-=-“𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰.” 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦.“𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬! 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴.  𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘣𝘶𝘨-𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦.or, eddie and richie's kids crash the reunion because they worry for their disaster dads, and maybe a sibling wont be so bad.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Series: we're losers, and we always will be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566466
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> uh here's story number 46 of my saga, fics i'll start but should probably be finishing another. 
> 
> inform me of any typos? please and thanks?

I sat on the dark blue plane seat; backpack gripped tightly to my stomach as my mind raced - _dirty, dirty it's so dirty make it clean I'm dirty dirty dirty clean it clean me._ The seat itself was used by thousands of other people, so I couldn’t help but feel the panic rise in my chest, but I just curled up and tried to block out the noise around me.

I checked my phone, and the white numbers 5:23 laid boldly on the lock screen. How exactly did I get here?

_Sunday night. I laid on my bed, looking over my AP bio notes. Biological systems interact, and these systems and their interactions possess complex properties. I went to highlight the sentence, knowing it would be a big point in this week’s test. As I uncapped a highlighter, I hear the front door slam open. Hurried footsteps sounded down the halls, and I paused for a second, wondering what had Dad so rushed._

_“Leaving?!” Mom’s scream made me stop altogether. A beat passed before I quietly slipped off of my bed, feet landing lightly on the shiny floor._

_“Myra, honestly it’s only a week, I have paid leave, you’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.” Dad tried to reassure mom, and as I crept closer to the doorway of their bedroom, I saw him packing large suitcases, tie untied around his neck and white shirt wrinkled._

_“Fine?! You think you’ll be fine? Eddie-Bear, you’re too sick, you’ll die without me.” Mom cooed. I frowned and pushed open their door wider._

_“Myra, it’s Derry Maine. Nothing to worry about. A Chinese restaurant named Jaden of Orient. Something came up with old friends and I-” dad stopped when he saw me standing in the doorway. He sighed and smiled tiredly._

_“Hey Birdie.” He hugged me but turned back to the teary-eyed mom._

_“I can’t believe you’d just leave us, Eddie,” She whimpered, bringing a hand up to her forehead. “Oh, I feel faint.”_

_“Sit down, mother,” I said, rushing forward and guiding her to the Bed’s edge. She whimpered, held her red splotchy face with one hand and gripped mine in a vice. Dad put a hand on my arm._

_“Myra, please. I don’t have time. My flight is in three hours and traffic will be a mess. I’m taking a cab.” Dad dropped a soft kiss on top of my head but his eyes were hard and voice sharp. Mom burst into tears, whining incoherently. I frowned and looked at dad, but he only smiled tensely and hugged me a second before throwing together his suitcases again._

_“Oh, promise me you won’t leave me like your father, Ellie-Bird.” Mom whimpered. But he’s not leaving forever. Bit of an overreaction, mom, I thought. But my eyes watered and my lips twitched downward anyway._

_“Never, mother,” I muttered, watching with blurry eyes as Dad stumbled out of the door with three suitcases and a shoulder bag._

Two days ago, my father Edward Kaspbrak left on a sudden reunion to Derry, Maine. In his wake, he left a distraught wife and confused daughter. Two days ago, mom became insufferable. Pulled me out of school early, fretting about my medication and stress levels. It was a new level of overbearing, it made my head drum loudly in annoyance and I swear I would’ve snapped.

_“Mom, please, I’m fine. We don’t need to see doctor Owens.” I pleaded, sitting in the front seat with Mom._

_“Ellie-Bird I just know there’s something wrong with you, honey. You’re snapping at me! My Eloise would never.” Mother cooed, teary-eyed. How does this woman cry so much over nothing, I thought._

_“Mother I’m sorry to say, but getting pulled out of school for nothing with your mother crying in the office isn’t easy on anybody,” I muttered, hoping to not make her mad. Instead, she burst into tears._

_“Oh, there you go again, being snippy and rude. I didn’t raise you like this, I just know something's wrong in your head.”_

_Mom choked on her own sobs to berate me. I felt guilty well in my chest._

_“I’m sorry, mother. I don’t mean to make you upset. How about we go home so I can sleep after some Alcester and if I’m still crabby tomorrow we can see doctor Owens.” I persuaded mom, taking her chubby hand in mine. She sniffed but nodded, and we went back home. She gave me sleeping pills and Alcester and I knocked out._

_“Hey, guys. I need you to pick up work for me, I’ll be gone for a few days.” I say, sitting down in the group of four desks. My friends turn to me, confused._

_“Why? Are you sick again?” Marlow asked, flitting through her binder to find her planner. I shook my head._

_“I’m kind of running away? It’s a long story. I’m gonna find my dad.” I said, leg bouncing as I watched the clock count down. I would leave class 4 minutes early, come back after the bell, then make my escape._

_“That’s a lot to unpack, but okay,” Erin muttered, writing in her notebook. I nodded but said nothing._

_The bell rung just as I completed paying and booking the flight ticket. I sighed, looking down at my bag. My iPad, chargers, headphones, medication and a spare change of clothes sat comfortably inside. My geometry books sat lonely at home, but I felt no sympathy for them._

_I ducked back into the eighth period, smiling at Mister Hernandez after I put the pass back and bolted down the hallway, still bustling with people. Usually, I leave through the west exit, but the east exit was in sight and I knew there was no going back._

_With a huff, I stepped outside and trotted down the steps. I passed Marlow, who nodded at me and mounted her bike. I smiled at her, knowing she would want answers sooner or later, and opened the Uber app._

_“Aren’t you a little too young to be flying without parents?” the lady at the desk asked. I smiled, a bit strained._

_“I'm sixteen, mam. My father is already in Maine. We just agreed I couldn’t miss the Chemistry test I had today.” I explained, clasping my hands behind me nervously. My right thumb met the tip of my left middle finger, in an attempt to calm my nerves._

_“Alright. Here you go, enjoy your flight.” The lady said, handing me the printed boarding pass. I nodded my thanks and made my way to the port, where tired-looking businessmen were strewn about. I stood a bit away from them, mind yelling of germs. Eventually, we boarded, and by the time I realized I was in **deep** shit, we were already in the air._

The plane landed and I stood outside the airport, one hand tightly holding a backpack strap. I waved down a taxi and asked him to take me to the Jade of Orient. He grunted but drove me through the town. Though it was dark, I could see that the town was stuck in the 70s or 80s. Some buildings were so old that they were shut down from the mold. I shivered, dread creeping up my spine. My hand flew up to my mouth, ready to bite my nails to the bed.

Left pointer finger. Left thumb, three times. The left middle finger, twice. Right pinky two times and right pointer four times. Repeat five times. By the time I had finished my routine, my fingers were throbbing and the skin around my fingers was ripped up.

“That’ll be thirty-five and forty cents, kid.” The cab driver muttered. I pulled out two twenties and fled the car, yelling my thanks and turning to the restaurant's entrance. A dark-skinned boy caught me by surprise, however. He stood nervously in front of it, biting his lip. I frowned and walked forward. _Maybe he's looking for his dad, too,_ I thought, in a poor attempt at comedy. 


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in love with charlie tozier! hi~! 
> 
> (you can pry the idea of richie having a black kid from my cold dead hands.) 
> 
> uh, hope you enjoy it? the last chapter ended pretty abruptly so we'll see if I make up for it in this one????

“Hello,” I said, putting my wallet in my pocket. The boy jumped and turned quickly to face me. 

“Holy crap, chick! Don’t go sneaking up on people like that.” He laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His hair was in loose-poofy looking dreadlocks that reached his ears. The dreads had beads spread through them, all different colors. The glasses on the bridge of his nose made his eyes look bug-like. 

“Sorry. Why are you standing outside? It’s cold. Are your parent’s inside?” I asked, looking through the glass door, taking in the red décor. He shrugged a shoulder. His bomber jacket barely moved with the movement; it clearly wasn’t his size. 

“My Dad is inside, but he doesn’t, um, he doesn’t know I’m here.” He said, pulling on a dread. I frowned. 

  
“My father’s here too. Eloise Birdie Kaspbrak, call me Birdie, though.” I shot my hand out to shake his before my brain could yell about touching other people about their germs. 

  
“Charleston. Call me Charlie.” Charlie shook my hand loosely. “I didn’t know people still shook hands, but okay.” I widened my eyes, this boy’s rude, I guess. 

  
“Well I wasn’t going to hug you, who knows what you’ve got, it’s flu season you know.” I bit, face contorted. Charlie snorted and brung a hand to his chest. 

  
“Eloise gets off a good one. Gonna ignore the fact you think I have four cases of syphilis, and open the door since you’re such an old lady.” Charlie smiled widely, and I rolled my eyes. Letting me go first, he stepped inside.

  
“Okay, I told you to call me Birdie. Also, I literally only know your name. You can never be too sure, smartass. Do you even know what syphilis is?” I snapped at Charlie, annoyed at his demeanor. He just laughed and threw an arm around me, walking us to the podium a few steps away from us.

Hi, I’m looking for a reservation under Hanlon.” Charlie smiled at the woman and I forced myself to smile to – _get off please please don’t touch me you’re dirty you're making me dirty please stop im sick im weak_.

  
“Right this way,” the woman smiled and led us through the main dining room. When her back turned, I pulled his arm off of me. 

  
“Don’t touch me, tall ass,” I huffed, wiping my hands on my pants. “Why are you pretending our dads are on the same reservation? How did you even know what name to ask for?” I whispered, aware of the hostess a few steps in front of us.

  
“Dad mentioned a Mike Hanlon before he left. I, just figured, you know?” Charlie shrugged again and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Besides, once I find my dad, you can just slip out and look through the other private rooms.” 

  
“This is your stop; I’ll have two chairs brought over shortly.” The waitress smiled and turned back around. I looked at Charlie, unsure. 

  
“No, fuck you!” I froze and we both turned to look at each other. Charlie bit back a laugh pushed a dread out of his eyes. 

  
“Yeah, that’s my dad.” Charlie snickered. I rolled my eyes. “You’re both annoying then.” I drawled. He laughed and patted my back. 

“Ding ding, we have a winner.” Charlie sang, stepping into the room. A step behind him, I followed. 

  
I immediately spotted dad. He did too, apparently, because he went pale and stood up, anger pinching his face. The shaggy-haired man in front of him turned to look at us, confused. He looked at Charlie for a moment before gasping and standing too. 

  
“Birdie!” “Charlie?!” They both yelled at the same time. _This would be amusing if Dad didn't look like he was ready to put me up for adoption._

  
 _“_ You found him,” Charlie muttered, a weak smile on his face. I snorted in disbelief. 

  
“Birdie, how- did you leave your mother? Oh, Myra’s gonna kill me, how did you leave? Why? You can’t just- Birdie, I-” Eddie stuttered, circling me and looking for injuries. 

  
“Dad, dad I'm fine,” I muttered. Dad put his hands on my face and hugged me, muttering to himself. 

  
“No, you’re not fine! You took a plane, alone, on a school night, and left your mother in Chicago!” Dad pulled away, holding my upper arms. 

  
“Have you taken your pills?” He asked. I faltered and his eyes narrowed. He pulled my hands to him and sighed. He led me to the chair he was sitting in and sat me in it, pushing the plate toward me. Charlie was already sitting in his Dad’s chair as his dad fumbled to weakly scold him.

  
“Okay, Eddie, Richie, would you like to share with the class?” A woman said, her copper-red hair framing her face. Dad sighed and put a hand on my shoulder, giving me an expectant look. 

  
“I’m Eloise Birdie Kaspbrak,” I said, waving. Charlie choked on an eggroll, quickly swallowing it. 

  
“ah, I’m Charlie Efrem Tozier-Garcia.” He introduced himself, but quickly went back to eating. His dad sighed and swatted at the back of his head gently, scolding him for eating so fast. 

  
“Ellie-Bird, this is Richie,” he gestured to Charlie's dad. “Beverley,” the woman (who looked scared?) “Bill,” the man in a green flannel, “Ben,” the man with a goatee, “and Mike.” He pointed to the African-American man who looked very excited. _Like he knew us?_

  
“Oh, so you’re the famous Mike Hanlon,” Charlie said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

  
“Jesus, you absolute heathen, you have napkins.” I snapped, throwing them at Charlie. He grinned mockingly and took a bite out of it. I grimaced and rolled my eyes. 

  
"Great, now you have paper in your esophagus idiot.” I groaned and stabbed a piece of chicken. 

  
“Eat, bug. You have to take your pills. Don't be rude, Biridie.” Dad pulled out an orange pill bottle and slid it toward me. I saw dad’s friends glance at each other worriedly, but they said nothing and discretely watched.   
I shoved orange chicken into my mouth and chewed hurriedly. Charlie had eaten six eggrolls by now and I frowned, watching the boy reach for a seventh. 

  
“Tozier, huh?” I muttered, still grimacing. Charlie paused and nodded. 

  
“Makes sense. My mom hates your dad’s comedy.” I hummed. Charlie paused and frowned at me in mock-disgust.   
  
“Yeah, and I hate your dads...cardigan.” Charlie tried, but I looked over at dad, who was looking at Charlie in surprise. 

  
“Going right for the core, I get it,” Dad muttered and adjusted his sweater.

  
“How old are you two?” Beverley asked, smiling kindly at the two of us. 

  
“I’m sixteen. He’s six, though.” I smiled mockingly at Charlie in the end. He stuck his tongue out, making his voice high pitched as he mimics me. 

  
“Top tier comedy, like your dad, numbnuts.” I blurt, flinging broccoli at him. Dad yells “Birdie!” and swats my shoulder lightly. Charlie spluttered as the broccoli hit his forehead and he glared at me. 

  
“Damn Eds, your kid’s not throwing any punches.” Richie laughs, leaning back in his chair. Dad sighed and ran a hand down his face. 

  
“So, Mister Denbrough, can we please discuss your latest book?” I ask, sitting up and looking him in the eye. He choked on his drink, which sent the group into a fit of laughter. Once he stopped coughing he nodded. 

  
“Okay, sure. What’s on your mind, Birdie?” Bill looked nervous like he wasn’t ready for another critique. 

  
“What in the actual hell was that climax? That supposed ‘ _rise in action_ ’ was trash.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me at nieve-blancas on Tumblr! 
> 
> uh i rewrote 75 percent of the dialogue because it was so bland lmao 
> 
> um there's a musical reference in here if anyone catches it lol. I'd die for charlie! idk why he's probably not well written but see the notes above for my official declaration of undying faith to this child. 
> 
> ending is still kinda choppy? i'm bad guys holy c r a p we'll have to try to fix that next time again ig


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad times? You betcha

  
“The ending was cool though,” Charlie said, finally using a napkin. I nodded in agreement. Bill looked between the two of us, clearly confused. 

“I mean, who wants a happy ending all the time? You need to fill your angst quota somehow,” I said, rolling my eyes. Bill opened his mouth and licked his lower lip, seemingly completely baffled. 

“You liked the ending?” He muttered, hands falling to his lap. Charlie and I nodded, glancing at each other. 

“I’m surprised you can read, Tozier,” I mocked, but turned to Bill again. “Honestly, I feel like a happy ending after the pure sadness the book was would’ve been out of place. Like, sixty percent of the cast is dead and suddenly they live happily ever after? No way. Absolutely not.” I shrugged and shook my head. Bill let out a dry laugh and cleared his throat, eyes glassy. I grimaced. 

“Dude, are you crying? Same.” Charlie laughed, leaning back. Richie nudged his arm and gave him a sharp look. 

“Shut up, I bet you cried the entirety of the book,” I snickered at Charlie. He gasped gripped the edge of the table, leaning forward. 

“If you didn’t cry when the guy with all of the internalized homophobia got axed, you’re disgusting.” Charlie hissed, jabbing a finger in my face. I pushed back into my chair, but I groaned in agreement. 

“Oh god, rest in peace Andrew. Truly the best of us.” I felt my shoulders sag. Charlie nodded and fake-sobbed. 

We turned back to the adults, who were all watching us, bemused expressions on all of their faces. 

“So, what are your interests, hobbies, etcetera?” Ben asked, holding his glass. Charlie nodded at me, still chewing his food. 

“I play the harp, third chair. Uh, I’m the class secretary, and I’m in the drama club.” I listed, counting on my hand. Mike hummed and put his elbows on the table, fiddling with his straw. 

“What’s class secretary like?” I sighed and shrugged, leaning back into my chair. 

“A lot of complaints, honestly. I manage the meetings for the student council. I go through all the clubs for their events.” I tried to start biting my nails again, but dad put a hand on my shoulder and I felt my chest tighten. 

“Dad, please,” I whispered. Dad only rubbed my arm and squeezed my shoulder a bit tighter. I bit back a wail and roughly shoved my hand back down, and sat on it. 

“Birdie, take your pills, hun.” Dad handed me a tiny blue pill and I cradled it in my hand for a few moments. 

“Dad I can’t bring my hand up or I'll bite,” I whined, looking up at him. My eyes were clouding with panic. 

“Ellie-bird, nothing bad will happen if you don’t bit your nails. Everyone is safe, nothing bad is going to happen.” Dad slowly brought my hand up to my mouth, and I dropped the pill into my mouth before chugging his glass of water. 

“Good job, Eloise. I’m so proud of you, Birdie.” Dad gave me a side hug and pecked the top of my head. I weakly smiled but pushed him away from me quickly. 

“Complaints about what, Birdie?” Beverley continued the conversation like nothing had happened, and I felt gratitude well up inside me. 

“Mostly Wilbur Hutchins. His dad pays for all of the funding for the clubs yearly. He’s guaranteed a spot no matter what. But, he’s frankly the worst human being on the planet. He bullies everyone, and it sucks ‘cuz I can’t do anything about it.” I huffed, the heat in my neck and ears finally subsiding. 

“Damn. Private school problems.” Charlie laughed. I grimaced, but he was right. I did go to a private school, and my parents paid a pretty penny to keep me enrolled.

“Tell me about it. What about you, Charlie?” I prompted, rubbing at my tired eyes. He blew a raspberry. 

“I’m part of our computer coding club, uh, I work in the sound department of our production club, or drama, if you wanna call it that. I do soccer, too.” Charlie scratched at his temple nervously. 

“Ooh, sound? I’ve always found them interesting, but I'm not good with music programs.” I laughed, pulling my hair back. 

I fiddled with the ends of my chestnut brown hair, detangling some of the knots that had formed _knots are like little nests for bacteria._ Charlie hummed, nodding.

“Yeah, they can be pretty convoluted. Though I’m a horrible actor. I can’t correctly read a script for the life of me,” Charlie chuckled briefly, crossing his legs.

“This is so weird,” Richie let out a breathy sigh, adjusting his glasses. “All these memories, and people who I forgot for two decades.”

“Right? Everything’s coming back faster and more since we got here.” Ben agreed, crossing his arms.

“When Mike called me, I threw up. I got so nervous I vomited.” Richie tried to laugh at that, but it was forced. Charlie stuck his tongue out in disgust. I shivered, the thought of vomit makes my skin crawl.

“I crashed my car.” Dad shrugged. My breath caught in my throat and I stared at him.

“You what? Dad, you didn’t tell us you crashed your car?” I bit, worry pricking goosebumps along my arm. He smiled tiredly, like he seems to be doing more often lately, and patted my shoulder.

“My heart was beating so hard.” Dad, said, leaning forward. Charlie and I shared a look. Why were they all so scared?

“So I wasn’t the only one,” Beverley sighed, nodding to herself. The adults looked around, and the atmosphere felt flat but thick at the same time. A bad taste developed at the back of my throat.

“It felt like f...f...” Bill struggled with the sound, miming his hand in front of him as if physically trying to drag the word out of his mouth.

“Fear,” Mike finished, looking around the room. His gaze lingered on me and Charlie for a beat, worry creasing his forehead. “It was the feeling of fear.”

The adults fight. Charlie and I sit quietly, throwing helpless looks at each other as the adults grow more panicked. Dad reaches for a fortune cookie and hands me one.

“Heh, mine says could.” He huffs, turning the paper so the rest could see. Richie gives Charlie one and we both hesitate to open ours. A pit forms in my stomach.

With shaking hands, I crack the cookie. I gently unfold the piece of paper.

‘Are you going to be good for me, Ellie?’ is printed on the paper, and I throw it down on the table, hands clammy and suddenly I can’t stop shaking.

“What does your’s say, Charlie?” I gulp, hoping his answer is less fear-inducing than mine.

“Dirty, just like your daddy,” Charlie mutters, gently putting down the slip with tremor-filled hands. _I was wrong. They’re both terrible._

“Guess Stanley could not cut it,” Charlie mutters, reaching to re-adjust the papers once Beverley put hers down. I see a tear fall down her cheek and she brings a hand up to her mouth.

The fortune cookies start shaking. I push away from the table and back away, Charlie gripping my sleeve.

"Hey, that fortune cookie's lookin' at me!" Richie backs into the same wall as us as he yells, and I watch as gross baby-creatures with bat wings and eyeballs attack the group.

“Eddie!” Richie yelped when a bat-like creature nears Ben and Dad, causing them to scramble. I feel something slimy trail up my leg and freeze.

I look down and a single eye stares back at me, retina-tentacles wrapped tightly around my ankle. I scream, yanking on Charlie. I hear dad call my name, but in the end Charlie grunts and kicks it off, leaving it writhing on the floor.

As I catch my breath, I see the fish in the tanks have turned into rotting heads, singing a song that made my ears ring. Charlie gripped my sleeve harder, spitting curses and voice cracking from his screams. Richie was holding on to both of us, but his eyes never left dad.

“It’s not real,” Mike chanted, pulling a chair over his head and bashing it repeatedly over the tabletop. We all pant, watching him beat up the creatures and black sludge on the table.

“Everything okay in here?” The hostess asks. We all stop and turn to look at her. I turn back to look at Mike, and the table is filled with broken plates. I grimace.

“Yeah. Could-could we get the check?” Richie gulps, smiling weakly at the woman. She nods and turns, quickly walking away.

“Pennywise must be one helluva guy, huh?” Charlie mutters, and I let out a heaving laugh, doubling over as I wheezed with the force of my giggles, the adrenaline draining. He laughs too, and for a solid few minutes, the room was filled with heavy, disbelieving laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh rip Bill honestly :/ I feel like I would’ve liked his ending ngl
> 
> i love me some parallels! I had Charlie and Birdie hold on to each other like Eddie and rich in Bill’s garage (though platonic lmao,) 
> 
> I tried to go deeper into birdie’s appearance? And her mental health and how she struggles with it º-º
> 
> Hope you liked it <3


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The losers go back to the townhouse, sans Stan, Mike, and Bill, of course. Bev reveals what she's been seeing for the past 27 years, and Birdie and Charlie have another encounter with our resident dancing clown!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pfft, my guys, this has been sitting in my drafts since the seventh of December I am,,, the worst

We all stand in the parking lot, and I watch as Charlie grinds his teeth and taps his fingers against his thigh. Beverley is trying to call someone named Stan, but getting voicemail every time. 

“Mike, I really wish you would’ve opened with the whole killer clown thing.” Richie groaned, roughly shoving his hands in his pockets. Dad nodded, stepping closer to him. Charlie was still hovering beside me, as close as he could be without touching me. 

“We would have said no,” Dad scoffed, “I mean, we have kids, Mike. This is the last place they should be.” Dad ran a hand through his hair, clearly tense. Mike shook his head, eyes sad and desperate. 

“I, I have a plan. I know how to stop it; you made an oath.” Mike looked at them, but none of them seemed convinced. Richie frowned deeper. 

“Then we'll cancel it.” Richie shrugged, hands still in his pockets. Mike shook his head slowly. 

“Richie, more people will die.” Mike pleaded; eyes cloudy. 

“So? People die every day. We don’t owe anything to this stupid town,” Dad waved his hands as he spoke, clearly anxious and in a hurry to leave. “And I just remembered I grew up here two hours ago.” 

“I’m leaving then, fuck this. Charlie, come on, babba,” Richie turned to walk to his car. He stopped and waited for dad, though. Dad looked at Richie then back at Mike, but he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, Mike. But I have a kid.” He grabbed my hand gently and I followed him, throwing an apologetic glance over my shoulder to Mike, who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“You are not off the hook, but I have more pressing matters. We’re going to the townhouse and we are leaving, and you are going to call your mother.” Dad drove white-knuckled, and his eyes flickered every which way. _Like he was scared._ Richie’s car was ahead of us, and before long we were pulling into the parking lot of an old-looking tiny hotel. 

Richie and Charlie followed us up the steps, and I realized that Beverley and Ben had also left. Bill was nowhere to be found, along with Mike. 

“You have all your stuff in here?” Dad asked Richie. 

“No, most of it’s in the car,” Richie stopped and turned to Charlie, confusion on his face. 

“Did you come here with nothing? Run from LA all the way out here with just you?” Richie asked Charlie, bewilderment pinching his face. Charlie smiled meekly. 

“Yes and no? I packed a bag with my toiletries and an extra jacket, but the airport lost it.” Charlie huffed crossing his arms. I clicked my tongue. 

“That airport is an absolute mess, honestly. I swear I saw like, twenty health violations in the fifteen minutes I was in it. I’m lucky this was light enough to be a carry-on.” I gestured to my backpack. 

“Let me guess, the FDA wouldn’t approve of the condition of their propellers?” Charlie snorted, hand over his mouth. 

“Why the hell would the food and drug administration care about the condition of the airplane's jets?” I scowled. Charlie only stuck his tongue out. I looked up from our glare match to see that Dad went up the stairs, presumably to pack his things. Beverley, Richie, and Ben were talking quietly on the steps. 

“You’re not telling us something, Bev,” Ben said, eyes sad. Beverley hung her head, and it took her a second to respond. 

“I’ve seen you all die,” Beverley whispered. Richie blinked hard and slow, reeling back. 

“That’s not something you say casually, Bev.” Richie sighed. Charlie stood closer to me, unsettled. 

“You don’t get it, Rich. Everyone, even Eloise and Charleston. I’ve seen them die for the past twenty-seven years.” Beverley shakily held a cigarette in her hand, rubbing her forehead. I felt all of the air in my lungs get pulled out of me. Charlie whimpered a curse. 

“Okay, and telling me you’ve seen my kid die is also not something you say, Beverley!” 

“She what?” Dad trotted down the stairs, with two familiar black suitcases. Richie gestured toward Bev. 

“She’s seen us all die in her dreams. Even Birdie and Charlie.” Richie almost yelled, clearly panicked. Dad looked at me and his lower lip quivered for a second. 

“So what? We all have nightmares. I have nightmares! Doesn’t mean their true,” Dad spoke fast, bounding down the last steps of the staircase and standing behind me and Charlie. 

“Eddie-” Beverley looked frustrated, but Bill and Mike slammed open the door, cutting her off. 

“We can kill him,” Bill panted, his eyes hard as they gazed around the room. “We have to.” 

“Why now? Can’t we just come back in another twenty-seven years?” Richie said, holding onto Charlie’s shoulder. Dad started pacing but quickly turned around to gesture pointedly at Richie. 

“We’ll be seventy years old, asshole! I can promise you I can’t outrun a killer clown as an old man.” Dad snapped, face set in an annoyed grimace. 

“That wouldn’t work,” Beverley looks up, shaking her head; eyes afraid.“None of us make it another twenty-seven years.” 

“Do we?!” Charlie snapped, crossing his arms. I nodded, frown deep. “I mean, this isn’t our fight, I sure as hell didn’t fight a demon clown when I was twelve!” Charlie huffed, looking at Beverley. She shakes her head, shoulders almost drawn up to her ears with how tense she was. 

“Charlie, honey, you don’t make it two weeks if you leave,” She said, teeth clenched. Charlie freezes. He lowers his head and a tremor settles on his shoulders. I gently grabbed his wrist. a buzz sets in the back of my head, whispering about his germs don’t touch anyone they’re dirty- 

“Shit, Beverley.” Richie hissed, pulling Charlie into a hug. 

“None of us do, we have to do it now.” Beverley’s voice was high-pitched but strong as she looked around the room. Charlie sighed and let go of his dad, walking stiffly back to me. He looked at me with a wide, forced grin, and held up his hand for a fist-bump. I decided to pity him. 

“Inevitable-death-before-we’re-twenty club,” He chirped as our fists connected. I grimaced and punched his shoulder. 

“Too soon, asshole.” I snapped, though I still stood next to him. He was still faintly shaking. 

“How do you suggest we do this, Mike? What’s your plan?” Ben sighed, leaning forward. Mike swallowed, looking around the room. His gaze lingered on us again, but he said nothing to us. 

“The ritual of Chud. It was used…” Mike's plan is tuned out when both my phone and Charlie's pings. He digs it out of his pocket and I pull it from my backpack’s water bottle holder. 

The screen glitches brightly, and an unknown number texted me. I frowned and unlocked my phone, quickly opening my messages app. 

**‘scared, Ellie-Bird?’**

**‘i would be too if I was with those dirty people’**

**‘can you feel it in your skin?’**

**'festering'**

**‘worming’**

**‘what would mother say?’**

“Hey, Natalie Wood, are you getting creepy-pasta rip-offs too?” Charlie turned his phone around, showing the glitchy screen and sinister messages. 

“Screw off, asshole! She’s dead, you know,” I yelled, but I shakily turned my phone so he could see the screen. His messages read **“Can you read, Charles?**

**Can you focus?**

**Look at me, Charlie!**

**Look at me!**

**Poor Charlie, can’t read!**

**Can’t stand still!**

**The brain just can’t read very well, can it?**

**You’re a dog, Charlie.**

**But guess what?”**

“Holy crap, this isn’t a number,” Charlie hissed, realizing the unknown tag had _(736)699-473._

"It's a number short," Charlie used his finger to draw something in the air. He stopped abruptly and looked back down to his screen. "Pennywise." 

“That’s not possible.” I cursed, tapping the screen harshly. Charlie yelped suddenly and dropped his phone, holding his hand gingerly. 

“Charlie?” Richie asked, causing the others to look at us. Charlie cursed and hissed, bouncing his leg from one foot to the other. 

“My phone just burned my hand!” He moaned. I look at his palm and cringed, it was blistering fast. I picked up his phone cautiously and set both of the phones down on the coffee table. Before I could tell Charlie, it wasn’t even warm, the screens glitched and the same text came multiple times on both phones. 

“You'll float too,” I muttered, backing away from the devices. Mike grabbed me just as Carnival music started blasting from the speakers. A squeaky, gurgled laugh accompanied it after a second. I screamed and let Mike tug me farther away. Bill cursed and knocked them off of the table. 

“It’s not real,” I whimpered, but the volume of the clown chanting ‘You’ll float too!” was deafening. Bill Finally grunted and stomped on the phones, causing them to go silent. 

“Damn, I wish my phone’s volume was actually that loud,” Charlie muttered. I glared at him and yanked his hand toward me. 

“Dude, this is going to suck to heal,” I said, hovering over the blisters. He whined and pulled his hand back cradling it with his other. 

“Guess _'me time'_ is going to be really painful for a while.” He fake-groaned. I grimaced, backing away from him. 

“God, you’re disgusting.” I sighed, walking over to my dad. The adults were still quietly staring at the pile of broken glass and wires. 

“So, Pennywise owes me an unlimited data plan.” I huffed, bending down to poke at the debris. Richie and Ben snorted, but dad just sighed and looked at the broken phones. 

“There goes calling your mom.” Dad sighed, rubbing at his eyes with a fist. I shrugged. 

“Had to block her number anyway. Haven’t gotten a call from her since this morning.” I said, standing. Dad groaned and looked at me with pure exasperation on his face. 

“What am I going to do with you,” he muttered, fondly. I smiled sheepishly at him. I pursed my lips after a second of thinking though. 

"Why don't you call mother?" I asked, crossing my arms. Dad copied my stance and coughed into the crook of his arm, face pale. 

"I don't think that's- that wouldn't be a good idea, Eloise." Dad stuttered, pushing the hair out of his eye. My eyes widened; _he never uses my first name._

I see Richie snicker into the back of his hand behind dad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh i think the phone scene is overdone in these types of fics but holy shit it was fun to write!!!  
> come talk to me at nieve-blancas on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> come chat at nieve-blancas on Tumblr! 
> 
> uh let me know what u think? if you'd like uwu


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